


As The Clock Ticks

by bideanie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AroDeanWeek, Aromantic Castiel, Aromantic Dean, Firefighter Castiel, Fluff, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, queer platonic relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 09:59:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5000443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bideanie/pseuds/bideanie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The timer on Dean’s arm is supposed to bring him happiness and excitement, but instead, it brings dread. While everyone else is looking forward to the day they meet The One and live happily ever after, Dean is counting the seconds until he has to break someone’s heart and tell them he doesn’t want a soul mate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As The Clock Ticks

The timer on Dean’s arm is supposed to bring him happiness and excitement, but instead, it brings dread. While everyone else is looking forward to the day they meet _The One_ and live happily ever after, Dean is counting the seconds until he has to break someone’s heart and tell them he doesn’t want a soul mate. Never has, never will.

Dean doesn’t _do_ romance, and the thought of having some cute, sappy relationship with someone actually nauseates him a little.

Sam, of course, has already met his soul mate, when he was fourteen. Now, ten years later, him and Jess are still going strong. Sure, Dean is happy for them, but when he sees them be all cheesy in public or say _I love you_ , baby three hundred times a day or go on romantic dates, it makes him dread the day his timer ends even more. Dean doesn’t want that kind of life with any fibre of his being. He’d rather die alone with five dogs and a lizard.

The timer on his arm reads _2 y / 5m / 37 d / 2h / 12 m / 54 s._

Maybe he’ll die before then.

~~~~~~

Dean is with Charlie when her timer stops. It had taken three weeks of begging and bribery from Charlie to get Dean to agree to it, but in the end, he’d caved. Charlie needs his support, and he’s not going to be a shitty friend and refuse to be there when she needs him, his romance repulsion be damned.

Dean and Charlie both sit in the corner of their favourite coffee shop, watching the numbers on Charlie’s wrist tick down to zero. Dean can feel Charlie trembling from excitement next to him, her breaths quick.

Charlie’s wrist reads, _0 y / 0m / 0d / 0h / 12 m/ 1s_ while Dean’s own reads _1y / 2m / 33 d / 12h / 3h / 22 s._

“I can’t wait to meet you.” Charlie whispers. Dean thinks he she didn’t want him to hear it.

Before long, Charlie’s wrist is a series of zero’s and there’s a girl in front of them, with brown hair and an ecstatic smile on her face.

Charlie stands up as fast as she can, the chair that she’d been sitting on falls backwards onto the ground.

“Oh thank _god_ ,” Are the first words Charlie’s soul mate says. “I am so glad you’re a girl. My name is Dorothy.”

Charlie smiles at the girl, blissfully. She’s already a goner; her eyes are shimmering and she’s practically glowing. Charlie and Dorothy both reach out at the same time, grabbing each other’s hands and pulling each other close, as though they’d known each other for years.

“I’m Charlie.” Charlie mumbles into Dorothy’s neck. “I’m so happy to finally meet you,”

Dean doesn’t understand it. They’re strangers, for god’s sakes! How can two over-glorified tattoos suddenly make them be head over heels for each other?

“I guess I’ll just, uh, leave.” Dean says. Charlie doesn’t even acknowledge he’d spoken. “Bye.”

Dean quickly leaves the coffee shop, a sick feeling in his stomach. He knows it’s selfish, but he actually feels sad that Charlie has met her soul mate. Before it had been just the two of them, him and Charlie against the world, but now there’s Dorothy and they’ll always be going on dates and stupid walks where they hold hands in the park, and Dean will be alone in his apartment.  

Everyone seems to be one half of a happy couple, and then there’s _Dean_. Just the observer.

~~~~~~

Dean is sick of people asking him stupid, invasive questions. He doesn’t understand why old women at the grocery store who don’t even _know_ Dean think it’s okay to ask him personal questions. Like, _how long is left on your timer, boy?_ or _what do you think your gal will look like?_ or _will you have a traditional wedding?_

The only way Dean is getting married is if he gets possessed.

Worst of all, though, is when his family asks him such questions. At least when strangers ask, Dean can just bullshit through his answers or just say he’s late to a meeting of some sort. When his mom asks, though, or Sam, Dean is helpless.

Unfortunately for him, it happens every week; when he meets his whole family for Sunday dinner at his parent’s house.

Dean is contemplating a voice box removal just so he has an excuse not to tell them anything.

He doesn’t want to argue or fight with his family, especially his mom, which is why he hates the questions so much, because it always ends up in an argument. Or, at the very least, it ends up with Dean angry and doing a dramatic exit from the house.

“So, honey. Only four months left on your timer.” His mom says as she cuts up a piece of steak. Next to him, Sam lets out a huff. He knows that it won’t end well. “Are you excited?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “ _Mom_.” Dean has told her countless times that no, Dean does not want a soul mate, and _no_ , Dean isn’t excited to meet the person that he will destroy the life of. His mom, however, hasn’t seemed to grasp the concept, yet.

Dean doesn’t blame her, of course. In a world so hell bent on making everything about romance or sex and where most people’s lives revolve around romance, it’s hard for some people to comprehend _not_ wanting it. As though it’s something as incredulous as not wanting oxygen or a functioning liver.

“What?” His mom asks. “I know you don’t like talking about it but you only have four months! You can’t hide from the subject forever.”

 _Yeah, watch me_ , Dean thinks.

“Don’t you want a wife, a children, a _family_?” His dad asks in a gruff voice.

“No, dad, I don’t.” Dean replies in a clipped tone.

His parents gape for a moment.

“But- but everyone has a soul mate, Dean!” His mom cries.

“Not everyone _wants_ one, though.” Dean grumbles to himself.

He’s waiting for the next outburst when Sam suddenly speaks up: “Jess and I have some big news. We- we’re pregnant.”

 _Well, at least he changed the subject effectively,_ Dean supposes.

Dean eats the rest of his meal listening to the excited voices of Jess and his mom talking about the baby that will arrive in six months.

By the time the baby comes, Dean will have met his soul mate.

The thought puts a sick feeling in his chest.

~~~~~~

Dean is wearing three layers of clothing; a long sleeved undershirt, a plaid shirt and his leather jacket, as though burying the timer beneath all of that will make it disappear.

It won’t, though. Dean can’t escape it _. Today is the day_.

He doesn’t understand how some people can be excited about it, nor can he understand how people can just fall in love with a complete stranger just because some clock tells them to.

Dean feels like he’d rather swallow razor blades.

His arm reads _0 y / 0m / 0d / 0h / 19m/ 13s,_ and with every second that passes, Dean can feel the knot of anxiety in his chest grow larger.

He’s been locked in his room all day, buried beneath several layers of comforters, as though he can hide and wait this whole thing out.

He keeps trying to imagine how it will happen. Maybe someone will try to break into his room to rob him and then _boom!_ Soul mates! Or maybe there will be some sort of freak accident in the apartment next door and the wall will collapse to reveal that his neighbour was the soul mate the whole time.

Or maybe, just maybe, by locking himself into his room, it will stop the meeting from ever taking place.

 _Seems likely,_ he snorts bitterly.

Dean gets up out of his man made nest and walks over to his wardrobe. If he’s going to be meeting his soul mate in eighteen minutes, he’d better put on some pants, at least.

Just as he’s buttoning up his jeans, a loud, blaring alarm startles him.

He was wondering how Fate would draw him out of his room. It seems as though she’s using the fool-proof trick of pulling the fire alarm.

Dean sighs, running a hand through his hair. _Better get this over with._

He quickly makes his way downstairs, walking past his neighbors, Pam and Ash, who have apparently decided that making out in the middle of the hallway while the file alarm goes off is the perfect thing to do.

Dean averts his eyes as he goes past.

When he gets outside, he walks across the street to the almost-empty car park where they were supposed to go in case of a fire. Looking back at his apartment building, he can see that there is actually a fire on one of the top floors, flames and smoke escaping through the open window. There are a few fire trucks around, two parked next to the building, and one behind them in the parking lot.

Dean hopes that whoever was in there made it out.

“I left my sugar glider in there!” Someone calls out in a panicked voice. Dean looks to see an elderly woman almost in tears, pointing towards the apartment building. “Someone save her!”

No one seems to take notice of her. The two fire fighters that Dean can see seem to pre-occupied with trying to get every human out than they are rescuing someone’s pet.

“Please! Please someone save her!” The woman cries again.

Suddenly, a different fire fighter is walking over to the woman, pulling his helmet off mid-stride, leaving his dark hair messed up.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” He asks, in a deep, gravelly voice.

“Yes! My sugar glider is in my apartment, trapped! Her name is Marge!” The woman tells him, distraught. Dean watches as the man frowns, looking genuinely concerned.

“Which apartment, ma’am?” He questions.

The woman points to one of the windows on the middle floors, on the left side of the building. The man nods, before striding off with purpose. He picks up a large rock from the ground, weighing it in his hand, before throwing it at the window the woman had pointed at. A few people in the crowd gasp as the glass shatters onto the sidewalk below.

Dean thinks the woman is about to start yelling, but before anyone can say a word, a furry looking bird thing is flying out of the smashed window and coming towards them, wings out. The woman rushes forward.

“Marge! Marge!” She calls, holding up her hands. The sugar glider glides towards a lamp post, before jumping once again, landing straight in the woman’s arms.

The firefighter comes back to them, a small smile on his face as he reaches out to stroke a finger along the sugar glider’s back.

“Thank you for saving her!” The woman cries, holding the small animal tight in her arms.

“It was no problem, ma’am.” He says. “I apologise for the broken window.”

The fire fighter, having apparently decided that his job has been done, walks by Dean towards the other fire truck.

That’s when Dean realises that his arm is burning. He’s either having a heart attack or his timer has ended. He hopes for the former.

The firefighter stops in his tracks, a hand clutching at his own fore-arm as he turns around, eyes zeroing on Dean.

The first thing that Dean notices is that he doesn’t look excited, or happy. He looks…

Dean isn’t sure which one of them moves, but somehow, they’re standing right in front of each other, eyes locked.

Dean’s mouth is dry as he speaks. “Uh… hi.”

The man averts his eyes. “Listen, I’m very sorry to have to do this, but I don’t desire a soul mate. In fact, romance isn’t desirable to me whatsoever, therefore we can’t be togeth-”

“Wait, hold the _fuck_ up. _What_?” Dean splutters, because he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

The man winces. “I apologise that I’m not what you expected, I’ll just leave-”

The man moves to turn away, but Dean quickly reaches out to grab his wrist, pulling him back.

“Dude.” Dean says, eyes wide. “That is the best fucking news I have heard in my entire life.”

The man frowns, tipping his head to the side. He looks thoroughly puzzled. “What?”

“I don’t want romance either. I have been dreadin’ this fuckin’ day my whole life, man, you don’t even understand. I thought _I’d_ have to be the one to be like ‘ _uh, sorry, this ain’t gonna work out’_. But- Now that I know you feel the same way…” Dean trails off when he sees the firefighter’s dazzling smile, gums flashing all over the place.

“I- I am _very_ happy to hear that.” He says, smile so contagious that it has Dean grinning, too. “My brother once told me that everyone has different types of soul mates. It seems that we are the platonic kind.”

Dean didn’t even _know_ that that was possible. He thought that it was the same cut and dry romantic relationship for everyone, and finding this out has definitely been the best news of his life.

“So… no romance?” Dean asks, giddily. 

“No.”

“No cheesy candle lit dinners or declaring our love for one another every ten minutes?”

“Definitely not.”

“No awkward first date?”

“I hope not.”

“Good,” Dean breathes out. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this happy. “That’s- that’s good.”

“I’m Castiel.” The man, _Castiel,_ says, holding out a long-fingered hand for Dean to shake.

Dean shakes his hand with a grin. “Dean.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Dean.” Cas says.

“You too.” Dean replies. “Do you want to come over to watch bad syfy movies tonight? If my place isn’t burned to the ground, that is.”

“I’d love to.” Cas grins. “No romo, though.”


End file.
